Gadge Moments
by annabethlove
Summary: Gale and Madge moments. Gadge


_All rights to the author; Suzanne Collins_

Madge could hear the screams echo from the dark walls. Every day was the same. She heard him scream—a scream so terrible. Like a wild animal calling out for help, but every time he did, he died a little bit more. Madge could hear the _whack_ of the whip as it made contact with skin and flesh. She could hear his shallow breaths and his pleads for _them_ to just kill him.

Madge knew there was no escape. They did this to her too—every night. She cried out, but not for help anymore. She knew it would never come. She cried out because it was the only thing that would make the pain more bearable.

She hears the _clank_ of the chains now. She felt her body tighten and tense. Madge knew what was next. They were going to make _him_ watch. That was probably what got to him the most. Madge knew. They made her watch too.

Madge tried to concentrate on anything she could. The heavy black shackles restraining her wrists, keeping her from trying anything funny—or so they said. The black bed, if it could be called a bed, bare, with a flat surface, and a dirty and bloody blanket—from her many injuries. She tried to concentrate on the cold floor that digged into her bottom or the uncomfortable and stony wall that threatened to collapse on her any second—it wasn't really, but Madge couldn't help but feel like it would.

She even gave in into her hunger a little, as she could hear the rumble of her stomach. She hadn't been fed in 4 days. Her throat felt dry, and her head pounded. She decided to concentrate on that rather than the loud screams of the poor avoxes that were being tortured. Madge knew. She knew they were avoxes. She could hear it in their agonizing screams. She compared them to _his_ and _hers_. They had no tongue, no way to form out a cry out for _help_. They were like animals at the slaughterhouse, crying out, seeking a way to escape. But not finding any.

Madge curled her body in closer, making herself into a ball. Her shackles clinked against the frigid floor. She looked into the depths of her imprisoning cell. Darkness covered it. The only light she was able to receive was from the flickering bulbs that illuminated the corridor. The corridor that lead to more empty cells. The one that led to the last cell, where he was.

Madge hated the darkness. She didn't know if she was imagining it or not, but from the darkness she always heard a growl. Almost beckoning her to go to it. _It_ was hungry. It wanted _her_. Madge always stayed closer to the cell bars. She didn't want to figure out where the growl always came from, or from what it came from.

 _Remember sweetie,_  
 _One day you will find the end,_  
 _The end,_  
 _Where you will find happiness,_  
 _And there will be no more sadness._

 _Remember sweetie,_  
 _One day you will no longer suffer,_  
 _No longer suffer,_  
 _Because mother will be there to find you,_  
 _And take you to the meadow._

 _Remember sweetie,_  
 _One day you will no longer have anyone to fear,_  
 _You will no longer have anyone to fear,_  
 _because fear will fear itself._

 _Remember sweetie,_  
 _There are many tedious ways,_  
 _Many tedious ways to play a game._

Madge kept repeating the song over and over in her head. Her mother had sung it for her when she was little. She found irony in the song itself, really, she did. It was as if it reflected everything in her life the opposite way. Madge was filled with nothing but sadness, the meadow in district 12 had been destroyed by the bombing, Madge was the one that feared, her mother was dead and... there were many, many ways the Hunger Games had been played.

Madge hadn't understood the song back then, and even now, she couldn't quite understand it. How could fear be afraid of itself? How could there be happiness without sadness?

She stopped trying to decipher it the second week of her imprisonment. It only gave her a headache thinking about it. She had other, bigger, things to worry about.

Even so, the song brought peace to her mind. She could close her eyes and pretend she was still at home, and her mother had one of her good days, where she knew Madge was Madge, and not...and not her mother's sister. She would lay Madge down beside her, caress her hair, and sing her to sleep. Madge would always try to stay awake during those moments, because she knew that as soon as she fell asleep and woke up the next morning, her mother would be gone, and would be replaced by a shell containing fear and sadness that could only be kept alive by Morphling.

An electrocuting scream brought Madge back from her memory. There were a few more after, mixed in with the boys, and then silence and softly sobbing.

Madge felt relief. Finally, one of the avoxes was free. For Madge, happiness was death. She would've let herself die by now, if she didn't have something important she had to do. She had been trying for weeks to find a way to escape. For both her, and _him_.

Madge fisted her hands together as she heard the forceful bang of the prison cell door closing. She tried to diminish the fear growing in her quickly.

 _Remember Madge, fear nothing,_ Madge thought to herself.

It was the only thing that could help her prepare for what awaited her.

Madge curled deeper into her ball as she heard the heavy footsteps of the peacekeeper. Peacekeeper Thread. He had been an asshole back when he was in twelve, and now? He was merciless. He made sure to let Madge know how much he hated her, her father, her district, and everything. _Everything_. He made sure she knew, by torturing her, slowly and painfully.

Her cell door was opened forcefully and Madge quickly stood up. She felt the tremor start again. All over her body. As if she had been thrown into a frigid winter, or what they used to call, the North Pole, without any clothing or oxygen to breathe in.

 _There is nothing to fear._

"Hello, Princess," Thread looked at her with an amused smile, "are you ready?"

Madge tried to put as much hatred as she could into her glare. She hated this man. He had done terrible things to her, not only here, but also back in District Twelve, when he whipped...Gale.

The thought itself had startled Madge, but she didn't have time to linger on it before Thread was harshly pulling her by the arm, out of the cell. She didn't fight him anymore. She knew fighting him would only make him angrier.

Madge tried to walk as best as she could, but she had been starved for a long time now, she was dehydrated and her legs had been badly beaten last time, and that was without giving in to the pain she had on her back.

When they walked past the last cell, Madge couldn't help but look at the body of him. He looked so lost, beat and bloody. He couldn't even look at her. He was disoriented and so _thin_. Madge wondered if they fed him less than they did her. Which would be terrible since she only got fed once every two days. At the most.

"Hurry up!" Thread growled, making Madge turn away from him.

Thread threw her into an empty space, where two other peacekeepers stood—probably waiting for Threads orders—right by _his_ cell. She felt bile rise up her throat, but she pushed it down—even though she knew there was no way for something to come up since she hadn't eaten anything in such a long time. Not only from the foul smell—urine and unwashed bodies—but at knowing that they were going to make him watch them torture her.

She felt her whole body go cold as they strapped her against the wall and she found herself starting at the two avoxes.

They were both redheads. The boy, wide eyed, watched her, knowing what awaited her. He was strapped against the wall too. He had blood running from the side of his head, side and hands. They had cut three fingers off and part of his flesh too. Darius. The peacekeeper—or ex-Peacekeeper now—from district 12 who had stepped in during Gales whipping.

Madge didn't linger on that memory, even if she surprised herself even more by thinking of Gale. The whipping was a harsh and unpleasant memory for her.

The other redhead, the girl, stood limply by the boys' side. Looking at the wires, Madge could tell they had electrocuted her to death. She could guess that the poor girl's' heart had given out fast. Good. It was probably the only thing that awaited the girl either way.

"Are you ready, princess?" Threads voice made Madge lose focus from the Redheads and instead she glared down at him.

He had a bucket of water with ice in one hand and in the other he had a knife.

Madge felt the trembling grow, but she didn't look away. She prepared herself for what waited for her. She used to wonder if he heard her scream, like she heard _him_. If he knew it was her, like she knew it was _him_. But now, she realized, that if he hadn't known or heard and knew it was her, he was about to. Peeta was about to know, that those pain filled screams that filled the night belonged to Madge. 

_Hi loves!_

 _Thank you for reading! This is a one shot I wrote a while ago, and I've been working on making it a long fanfic, but I'm not sure yet! Let me know what you think I should do!_

 _Thank you! Xoxo_

 _-annabethlove_


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